grief comes on me suddenly, overwhelmingly.  images of Toronto, of broken people mixed up in abuse and hopelessness.  death and, worse, the living dead–those who’s hearts are beating but the light is gone from their eyes. 

my own brokenness surfaces, the losses of this summer…relationships gone and people buried.  illusions shattered.  i can only cry.

to enter someone’s story means to admit my own helplessness to fix them.  to fix myself.  i can only lay in my Father’s arms as He absorbs my tears.


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